


Aux Armes, Citoyens!

by orphan_account



Series: Cruelty Unrefined [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Atmospheric?, But their national anthem is pretty cool, Gen, I am not French, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A quick snippet looking at how the Republic went to war with the First Order in the Lines of Flight universe.
Series: Cruelty Unrefined [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581052
Kudos: 2





	Aux Armes, Citoyens!

**Ryloth**  
He came at dawn, on a blown fathier, sweat streaming down its billowing sides. 

The men of the village had assembled in the square, ready to fetch the repulsor-tractors for the morning’s work. 

“Citizens!” he called, and heads turned. “Citizens,” he said again, and near fell in the saddle, clinging on to the saddle-horn with the last of his strength. “The Republic is in danger.” 

A hush spread through the crowd. The Republic is in danger. Their village had heard those words only once before, when Skywalker and his armies had beaten back the droids. When many Twi’leks had been called. When few returned. 

The rider huffed a breath, his lekku waving in the still wind, and spoke again. “The Imperials, they have created a new weapon, they’ve destroyed the Hosnian system.” 

“Brother, you are tired.” The mayor of the village, such that they had a position, came forward, the crowd parting. “Please, sit, rest a while and speak sense.”

“I cannot. I was sent at haste in the last evening by the governor and have many more places to go.” 

Another ripple in the mass. Wives and children emerged from doorways to gather around the men and hear.

“The governor truly sent you?” The governor, a Twi’lek of great repute, was an almost mythical figure this deep into Ryloth’s rural country. A name rarely invoked, and never seen. 

The rider fiddled with the latch to a saddle-bag, fingers made clumsy by exhaustion and sodden with sweat. He pulled out a holo-projector and turned it on. The form of the governor, grainy but true, sprung up, and spoke. “To all citizens of Ryloth. The First Order has used a new superweapon to destroy the Hosnian system. The Republic Fleet, in turn, destroyed the weapon – but the Imperial fleet is invading our Republic in force.” 

There was – not a formula, but a rhythm to the words. History did not repeat itself, but it did rhyme. The holo went on. “I hereby call for a levee en masse. All Twi’leks of fighting age are to muster at the capital in two weeks’ time for foreign service. However long and hard the road may be, we shall fight through to victory. The Republic demands it.” 

The image cut and there was silence. The wind gusted hard, setting a fearsome rustle among the orchards. 

Then a Twi’lek, a young man, just into adulthood, shouldered his way through to the front of the crowd. “Send me,” he said. 

Another joined him. “Send me.” And another came, and another, and soon the whole crowd was pressing forward, quiet words echoing and growing over one another into a cacophony. 

Ryloth had seen two tyrannies. It would not countenance a third. 

**Alsaka**  
The air in the council chamber was heavy. All the members knew of the Hosnian cataclysm. Many had had friends in the system when Starkiller Base had fired. Few held hope for their survival. 

The gravity of the situation was self-evident but made even more obvious by the attendance. Alsaka, to be sure, had a government but many of the representatives did not attend regular meetings. Now, every being was in their seat, and every merchant factor, and old military house, and urban lord who had any privilege to the hallowed hall – no matter how feeble – had packed in. 

All had a voice. All wanted a say. 

But there was only room for one voice in that chamber. The Father of the House, a creaky man bent over and gnarled like a wroshyr tree, stood slowly. “Mr Speaker,” he announced ponderously, his normal reedy voice sounding deep and clear. “I rise to present satisfactory evidence that the planet of Alsaka, by a solemn ordinance of her people in convention assembled, has motioned for a declaration of war upon the First Order.” 

A snap poll had blazed through the grid-sphere in the minutes after Hosnian. A formal plebisicite had followed not far behind. The answer had been clear and signal.

The Speaker, whose usually florid, expressive face, was deathly still and composed, spoke. “Do any leal members of this assembly now convened wish to speak in opposition to the plebisicite?”

There were some who might, of course. Some strategists and reactionaries, who questioned the wisdom or the validity or both of a war. And others, merchants, who might think to benefit through sales of arms. 

All that had gone out of the window when Hosnian was destroyed. All members had lost close friends. Most had lost family. 

When called, the approving motion passed by acclamation. Alsaka went to war. 

**Ord Mantel**  
“Why the fuck should we weigh in?” growled the fat jeodu in the booth, before chomping into his nerf burger. A childish food, one might think, for one of the most powerful crime bosses in the galaxy. “Far as I see it, anything that keeps the ‘pubs busy is good for business.” 

The slim woman opposite leant forward, expressive eyebrows almost making her case for her. “My dear Dequc, you’re letting sentiment blind you.” 

“Careful with your words, Juhl, before I blind you.” It was an unserious threat meted out casually. Unserious to them, at least. 

“I mean to say, that what if the First Order wins?” 

“We worked with the Empire, we can work with the Order,” said Dequc, but there was a sliver of doubt in his voice. 

“Come now, these people are fanatics. They mind-wipe their troopers for one thing, till they’re near enough droids. Can’t imagine the usual bribes would work on them.” 

Dequc set down his burger with a care that belied his massive frame. “We’ve got ways around that.” 

“Really?” said Juhl. “You know the smuggling business into the Unknown Regions back to front. When have they ever allowed a vice in?” 

In the Coruscanti Law Courts, which Juhl had had the privilege of training at, they taught you never to ask a question to which you did not know the answer. Dequc knew that this was what was happening, but entertained the dance, nonetheless. 

“It’s locked tighter than a Bantha’s sphincter out there.” He made a clumsy motion with outspread hands, appealing to some nameless higher power. “But what would you have me do, Juhl? Go to war with the First Order? The men wouldn’t stand for it.” 

Juhl sat back into the admittedly extremely comfortable booth. “War? Perhaps not. But if certain smuggling contracts were to be floated, maybe even some technical expertise offered…it would certainly curry good will.” 

Dequc took his burger back up, but he nodded his assent. He could tell his old associate was going somewhere. 

“And I feel that Black Sun could weaponize that favour rather effectively.” 

“Not going legit,” mumbled Debuq around a mouthful of nerf. “No point.” 

“No, no. More like tipping off New Republic Intelligence – who are surely tearing their hair out right now – about certain First Order sympathisers. Smugglers we think are moving supplies for them. Spies, corporates, all that. Hells, we could even offer to rub them out - for the good of the Republic, naturally.” 

It took Debuq a second to process the case, and then he roared with laughter. 

“You cheeky bastard! You want to use NRI to kill off our competition, eh?” 

“Not in so many words…” Juhl said, a half-smile flittering across her face. 

“Two buckets, one blaster! With some luck, we can kick the First Order in the balls and walk away singing with a real monopoly.” 

And so, the Black Sun cartel – the largest criminal syndicate in the galaxy – declared its very quiet war upon the First Order. 

After Debuq finished his nerf burger, with two sides of fungus chips. They weren’t savages, after all.   


**Author's Note:**

> Hello, HopefulPenguin here! My sister, loyaulte_me_lie, roped me into this whole 'rewriting Star Wars' thing. Or I roped her into it. Something like that. I'm writing the Poe arc for the Lines of Flight universe, the first chapter of which will probably drop tomorrow. I'm also going to be writing intermittent snippets and shorter stories about how the war is going outside of the main character's focus, in the Cruelty Unrefined series (we do love a good bit of General Sherman).


End file.
